Keeper of Crows (Keeper of Crows #1)(9)



I nodded my head. I knew that. I wasn’t as worried about the coke as I was that Dimitri had come here himself. What in the fresh hell was that about?

“I can keep him away from you while you’re here, but once you step foot off Sunny Bridge’s property, my hands are tied.”

“I know. Thank you,” I said. I wasn’t planning on staying around here anyway. Father wouldn’t be home, but I needed a ride to get my things. Then I could ‘borrow’ one of his cars and skip town. “How will I get home?”

“Sunny Bridge will pay for a cab fare.”

That was generous, considering the hundreds of thousands my father paid for this private facility. It was located in the middle of nowhere; ensuring his privacy and that the paparazzi wouldn’t be able to get a picture of his wayward daughter, despite their tenacity.

“Sounds good.”

“Carmen—”

“Save it. Can I go now?”

Doc stood up and adjusted his tie. “I’ll call for an orderly to escort you back to your room.” His eyes narrowed. “A female orderly.”



*

It was finally Friday. Release day. Legally, I was being remanded into my father’s custody and had to check in with my parole officer on Monday morning. Part of the deal my father’s lawyers negotiated was that I would serve a minimum of sixty days in rehab, followed by a year of probation. Fun times.

A male nurse watched as I gathered my things. My belongings included my discharge instructions, a written prescription for the antidepressant Doc thought was giving me a personality, and Doc’s business card—as if I would actually call him up to chat after I got out of this hell hole. I came here with nothing else. The police found cocaine in my wristlet and confiscated it; not that the blood hadn’t ruined the leather anyway. My clothes were cut off by the paramedics on the way to the hospital. My life, or what was left of my life, consisted of only a few sheets of paper.

“Did you get everything?” the orderly’s voice boomed in the small space.

I didn’t have anything else and didn’t want it anyway.

“Yep.” I held out my arms. “This is everything.”

He rolled his wrinkly blue eyes at me and waved me out of the room. It was more like a cell. I think Father tried to scare me straight with this place. It was kept so sparkling clean, one could eat off the floor, but everything else was exactly what I imagined jail to be like. No freedom, no privacy. Nothing but you and your thoughts. It was hell on Earth.

Doc waited outside. I guess he did leave his office chair once in a while. “Take care of yourself, Carmen. My cell phone number is written on the bottom of your discharge papers. If you need to talk, or if you need anything at all, please call me.”

People said that all the time, right? If you need anything, call. But if you did call, they seemed to be put out by your needs. It was just a pleasantry, nothing more. Either that, or he wanted to continue to charge me by the minute for his shitty advice.

“Don’t count on it,” I replied breezily.

Doc frowned, but stepped away from me with a sigh.

I didn’t bother to wave or say goodbye.

A yellow cab streaked with black and white checkered stripes idled past the security gate that surrounded the center. The upholstered back seat was warm. I sank into it and gave the cabby my address, watching in the side view mirror as rehab quickly became a part of my past.

The drive took an hour and fifteen minutes. The cabbie, a guy named Mike who slapped his gum when he chewed it and liked to sing lyrics to the terrible seventies music he insisted on blasting, whistled as he pulled up in front of the drive.

“They already paid you?” I asked before I opened my door.

“Yeah. All taken care of.” At least Mike was honest. He could have said no and asked for more money. I’d expected as much.

“Good.” Stepping out of the car, I listened as he cranked the music again and eased away from the curb. The sun was setting, something I was beginning to realize was a harbinger of bad things to come. Before I could even punch the security code into the keypad, another car pulled alongside me. The engine purred as it idled.

The black Mercedes was non-descript. I didn’t recognize the driver, but as the tinted rear passenger window slid down, I knew I was in trouble.

In his thick accent, he ordered, “Get in the car, Carmen.”

“Dimitri, why are you here?” It felt like a thousand needles were poking beneath my skin. Everything in me wanted to run, but there was no running when Dimitri told you to do something.

“I come to speak to you. They would not let me see you at that place, so I’ll see you now. Get in.”

I hesitated, looking back at the keypad.

“Do not test my patience, Ms. Kennedy.”

If I made a run for it, I’d be caught. Best to go with him and figure out what he wanted. Maybe he just wanted me to entertain his friends, like he mentioned before.

The thought made me sick. I wasn’t a prostitute, but maybe I could do it. Just this once.

The driver of the car walked around to hold the back door open for me. Dimitri slid across the seat to make room. The leather’s cool temperature seeped into the backs of my thighs. There was a space between me and Dimitri—enough for someone else to occupy, but his presence made me feel like my face was pressed against the glass.

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